


as certain dark things are to be loved

by sweetie (Marnie)



Series: FFXV A/B/O AUs [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alpha Gladio, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Fingering, Fluff and Smut, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Noctis and Prompto centric, Omega Noctis, Omega Verse, Omega/Omega, Pack Dynamics, Polyamorous Pack, Spoilers, beta Ignis, but it's mainly focused on two characters, omega Prompto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 19:03:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11469762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marnie/pseuds/sweetie
Summary: Noctis' dad offers him a tired little smile, and Noctis briefly wonders what it was like for him in his own pack, with his mom and all the other old men he’s mostly seen in pictures. He’s stricken with the urge to kiss him affectionately on the cheek, but he figures he smells far too strongly for that to be appropriate. He settles for a “good night," and slinks on toward his destination.Later that week, his dad sends them away from the Capital, and he replays that conversation in his head nearly every night they spend camping, pressed together under the light of stars.





	as certain dark things are to be loved

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god please take this it's a mess and entirely too self-indulgent i'm tired of looking at it & i cannot be tamed
> 
> title is an excerpt from pablo neruda's [sonnet xvii](http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/pablo_neruda/poems/15706)!!

_1_

 

The first time Noctis gets his hands on Prompto, he nearly weeps from how vindicating it feels.  
  
They’re playing some random video game--quite honestly a generic stock rpg, with characters clothed in robes and overlarge hats. They’ve got long elf-ears and bright fairy eyes, and if he hadn’t seen Prompto staring at the cover with longing eyes during their latest run to the mall, Noctis wouldn’t have read a crash course on the series’ lore and bought it.

They’ve been playing for hours, it feels like, and Noctis doesn’t know what’s going on but he’s entertained by Prompto’s happiness nonetheless. His friend grins that grin of his, all crooked and endearing, a happy flush rising on freckled cheeks. His nightclothes make him look smaller--or perhaps it’s the day clothes that fill him out more--and with concentration Noctis can see the tantalizing flare of his hips, the telltale sign of an Omega regardless of gender. Noctis has never been one to consider himself straight, but he’s never been with another omega either, so the thought that there could be something coming from this is a new and exciting thought.

There’s been a sort of tension hanging over them these past few weeks, or maybe it was always there and Noctis is only just noticing it. When they look at each other Prompto peers up at him from underneath blonde lashes, almost coy. When they greet each other, it’s with steadying hands on arms and a soft press of forehead to forehead, leaving behind a scent mark that fades by the end of the day but is no less satisfying for it.

(“Your friend smells marvelous,” Ignis had said, his voice a low, pleased rumble, and Gladio had agreed with a deep sigh of his own--though he was still childish enough to replace the mark with one of his own, growling playfully as he ran his chin over the crown of Noctis’ head.)

They’ve always been tactile with each other, that’s more nature than anything, but it’s a good excuse for bundling close on the nights when Prompto sleeps over, his hands tantalizingly warm on Noctis’ sleep soft skin.

So when Prompto gives him that _look_ as he’s explaining why elves are the best class, all shy glances and fanning eyelashes, it ignites feelings of affection and protectiveness and a low, burning desire in Noctis belly. He reaches out, placing his hand over Prompto’s, and says, “Pause the game.”

 “Are you okay?” Prompto asks, genuine concern coloring his features. Noctis smiles reassuringly.

“Yeah,” he answers. “I just really want to kiss you.”

And it takes his friend a moment to process what has been said. When he finally does, the flustered look of surprise on his face eases the nervousness that had been edging its way into Noctis’s chest. He'd been half convinced he was reading the situation wrong up until this point. He’s not the best at interpreting people’s actions and expressions.

But then Prompto lets out a bashful laugh, choking out a “gods, please, yeah,” so Noctis cups his cheeks and tilts his head. He notes the tiny freckles on Prompto’s face, more numerous than he’d once thought, and the way his pupils dilate as the distance between them is closed. Their lips touch, Prompto’s as soft as Noctis had imagined, save for the rough patch of skin at the corner where he’d seen Prompto worrying at earlier with his thumbnail, the remnants of a childhood habit of peeling skin in response to anxiety. He reaches for Prompto’s hip, pulling him closer, and the other omega lets out a gasp. Noctis dips his tongue between his lips, guiding him slowly. Prompto tastes like the donuts they’d destroyed between the two of them in lieu of dinner. He also tastes like fruit juice. An odd combination, but Noctis feels a swell of emotion in his chest nonetheless. This has been a long time coming.

When Noctis nibbles gently at Prompto’s bottom lip, he whimpers. When Noctis starts kissing down his neck he lets out a helplessly needy whine that sends a shock of heat down Noctis’ spine. And _gods_ , does Prompto smell richly of an Omega, young and in his prime with a scent unmasked by suppressants and scent blockers. For all his insecurities, Prompto has always reveled in his status. Noctis has always been comfortable with being an Omega himself, but it’s never occurred to him to feel proud and happy with his biology. It’s probably due in part to the fact that no Lucian king has ever been born this way. It’s common knowledge that the royal advisors had tried to push another marriage onto King Regis the same day Noctis presented (and, thankfully, that his father had simply laughed at them and gone to bed, exhausted from standing guard outside of Noctis’ quarters).

Noctis pulls away when he feels like he’s about to become improper, endeared by the mindless way Prompto chases his lips, eyes lidded.

“Why’d you stop?” Prompto rasps, voice husky.

“Because if we keep going you won’t be wearing any clothes, and I don’t think you’re ready for that, yet.” Noctis answers, truthfully, running his hand up and down Prompto’s arm. Prompto blushes and looks away, but he doesn’t argue. Noctis can smell the arousal on him, but he know’s he right, from the way Prompto bites at his lip. After a moment, he clears his throat, and hesitantly looks up.

“I was kinda worried you’d think I was being weird. You know, because we’re both--” He awkwardly gestures between the two of them.

Noctis laughs, and so does Prompto, his eyes crinkling like they always do when he’s experiencing true mirth.

“Shut up, it’s true! I’m like, hella gay, dude. My mom once pulled me aside for talking about this Omega girl in my classes too much. She was like,” and here Prompto tilts his chin down, imitating his mother’s husky Alpha woman’s voice, “ ‘Prompto, you know that’s not normal. Omegas aren’t supposed to smell good to other Omegas. Find a nice Alpha who’ll give you babies and support you financially.’ And I love her and all, but _man_.”

“How do I smell?” Noctis asks, genuinely curious.

Prompto smiles at him. “You smell awesome. I don’t know if I’m jealous or happy.”

Noctis hums, and a silence descends upon them, then. Prompto sighs and lays his head on Noctis’ shoulder, warm hands coming up to rest on Noctis’ hips as if to anchor him in place.

“And how does your--uh. Do they like me, or,” Prompto falters, obviously at a loss for words. He’s never been in a pack before.

“They think you’re really cute.” Noctis answers.

It’s only a half-lie. Ignis does, surely, considering the obsessive amount of research he does on anyone Noctis ever grown close to. Gladio, however, is curious but not quite sold. That’s the nature of Alphas, and what sets him apart from Ignis’ Beta calm.

“Oh, really? That’s good,” Prompto sputters, face red.

He’s cute when he gets a full flush going on--the red trails down his neck and probably his chest too. Noctis catches a glimpse of his collarbone from where it peeks out from his oversize night shirt. He wants to kiss at the freckled skin there, leave his mark and pull the tiny shorts off Prompto’s soft thighs.

“I’d really like it if I could kiss you some more.” Noctis says.

Prompto lets out a shuddering laugh and covers his face. Noctis briskly rubs his shoulders, and when Prompto moves his hands, he leans in and the night is a blur of kisses and newly shy conversation.

 

* * *

 

_2_

 

Prompto, Noctis finds, is very sheltered, despite the independence his parents forced on him by practically bolting when they realized he could live on his own.

It’s just--at times, Noctis half feels like he’s corrupting Prompto, who blushes pretty and snickers nervously whenever they kiss. He asks a dozen curious questions about how Alphas are in the bedroom, because “They totally exaggerate on porn, right? I mean, nobody has a knot that big, _right_?”

It’s endearing, it’s interesting, and it’s confusing. They’ve all been forced to sit through a painfully clinical round of bare-bones sex ed, but it’s like Prompto skipped out on all the exploratory hormonal internet searches that most people of their ages do.

“So when I’m freaking out and you stroke my neck, is that, like, a hormones thing or?” Prompto asks. They’re laying on Noctis’ bed and he’s a shade away from falling into REM sleep.

“Yup. You’ve never had someone do that for you?” Noctis replies, his words slurred. Prompto’s ability to understand what he said is a testament to just how close they are.

“Not until you.” Prompto says, in that shy voice of his. Noctis pulls him close and playfully shoves his face into Prompto’s neck.

His friend (boyfriend? potential pack mate? lover?) laughs, but he gives a pleased shudder when Noctis’ lips score over the raised skin of his gland.

“Good,” Noctis says, after a comfortable silence has settled over them and Prompto’s melted into the sheets, “I like it that way.”

 

* * *

 

_3_

 

The first time they go further than a heated kiss, it’s an accident. They get bored with the obnoxiously droning voice of the newscaster and eventually decide to make out. Noctis presses Prompto down onto the couch, gentle, like he did the first time this happened.

He doesn’t know what makes him nip at Prompto’s neck, or run his hands over pleasantly toned bicep and warm inner thigh, but he realizes he just might have gotten ahead of himself when a soft cry tumbles from Prompto’s kiss-bitten lips.

“I want you to, it’s okay,” he says, when Noctis swallows and tries to move his hand away from where it’s cupped the bulge in Prompto’s jeans.

“Are you sure?” Noctis asks.

In reply, Prompto’s undoing his belt and unzipping his shorts just far enough for Noctis to slip his hand inside, over the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. His erection is hot and heavy in Noctis’ eager hand, and when he cups it Prompto lets out a pained noise and rolls his hips into the touch.

“Gods,” Prompto whines, pressing his heated forehead into Noctis’ shoulder.

“You can say that again. You’re sexy,” Noctis replies, squeezing Prompto’s thigh with his free hand. He hopes it’s comforting, because he can smell the hint of nerves causing Prompto’s scent to register as the tiniest bit sharp.

“Shut up, holy shit.”

He’s about to respond with some witty, flirty remark, but Prompto is spreading his thighs in invitation and his scent hits Noctis’ nose and his brain feels like cotton.

Noctis presses his lips into the reddened curve of Prompto’s ear, asks, “Are you wet?”

Because Noctis is, Six help him. He almost wishes Ignis and Gladio were here with the both of them, once of them pressing into his back with a heavy, eager cock and a ready knot. But he knows that for all Prompto is fascinated with them and eager to join their little pack, he scares easily, and it’s taken a lot for them to get this far. That can wait.

Prompto bites his lip and nods. After getting the go-ahead, Noctis pulls those damn shorts off--and had that been deliberate? Noctis has been staring at his legs all day. Did Prompto plan this? He’s cute and he has nice legs. Noctis feels weak to the knees--and then his adorable chocobo underwear. They both laugh as Noctis clumsily shoves a throw pillow underneath Prompto’s ass. The view it grants is heavenly.

His cock is flush red and oozing precum, and there’s a shimmer of slick on his round cheeks. Noctis doesn’t know what he feels more strongly: the throb of his cock or the need to be filled. He decides to ignore both in favor of making sure Prompto cums no less than twice, but preferably more, and with lots of noise until he’s a hazy mess.

They kiss once more, and then Noctis grips his cock and gives an experimental tug. This earns him a deliciously high-pitched moan, especially when he places his free hand on Prompto’s rolling hips and stills the motion. He knows from experience just how sexy it is to feel like all you can do is lay down and take what’s given to you, to give yourself over to the care of another. When he’s sure the other Omega won’t attempt to move any further, he moves his hand down, pausing to squeeze tight, red balls and press into the sensitive flesh below, which results in an involuntary jolt of the hips that sends Prompto’s hard cock thrusting right up into Noctis’ hold. Prompto throws a hand over his face, gasping. And then Noctis trails a single digit below, where it’s swallowed by wet cheeks, to tease at a twitching entrance.

“Fuck,” he says, “fuck, that’s hot.”

He doesn’t think to ask if Prompto is ready before he presses in, and he’s unprepared for the keen that leaves the blond’s flush throat when he does. He feels hot, and tight, and despite the amount of slick his body is producing there’s still a hint of resistance when Noctis pumps his finger further inside.

“Oh,” Prompto moans, sounding almost pained. He tilts away from Noctis’ hand, and then back into it, as if he’s unsure of where to go.

“Shh, shh, I’m sorry, babe, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” Noctis babbles.

But Prompto shakes his head, hand flying down to encircle Noctis’ wrist and give it quick squeeze. Noctis pushes in another finger, curling them experimentally Before long, they work up a jerky sort of rhythm, with Noctis fucking into him with his fingers while his other hand works his length, pumping in the same quick, shallow rhythm he uses to get himself off when he’s on his own. Before long, his hands are glistening with the evidence of Prompto’s arousal, and lewd, wet noises.

All it takes for Prompto to orgasm is a crook of Noctis’ finger against tight walls, brushing against his prostate. He flutters around Noctis’ fingers, cock spurting warm onto his hand. The noise he makes is high and pretty and keening, and it peeters off into whimpers of Noctis’ name when he runs his thumb over the underside of his cockhead. He bats Noctis’ hands away, and then pulls him in for a kiss and a tight hug.

Noctis shoves his hand into his own pants, grabbing his own throbbing length and giving it a few short tugs until he shudders through his own release.

“There are,” he wheezes, “ _so many things_ I want to do to you.”

This time, Prompto doesn’t hide his face when he laughs.

 

* * *

 

 

_4_

Ignis and Gladio are kinder to Prompto than Noctis first expected.

Not that he expected them to be mean, per se, but they are both protective, and with good reason. He’d taken pains not to have Prompto around when they would be, initially because he wanted to have a friend all to himself. When his affection grew and he realized he wanted to make things official, it was for Prompto’s own good. While he is by no means delicate, he posses a sort of naivety about how people will react to him.

They don’t treat him any differently when he begins to join Noctis on his trips to the Citadel, and when Noctis finally asks that he be allowed to join in on their training sessions, Gladio barely bats an eyelash.

“Be sure keep up, kid,” He says, slapping a hand down on Prompto’s shoulder.

His hand lingers longer than it usually would on any other stranger. When he removes it, he lets it trail down the length of Prompto’s arm. Prompto blushes until his ears are red beneath the sweep of his blond hair.

Ignis makes a show of taking his hand in greeting, and when he’s given permission, he allows his nose to pass briefly over Prompto’s wrist. He has always been something of a traditionalist.

“Exquisite,” is all he says.

Prompto _swoons_.

“Wait ‘till you eat his food,” Noctis snorts.

The transition goes well, after that. Well enough that he can’t really think of a specific day for when Prompto officially joins their odd little pack. One day he is the kid they all flirt with, salacious and playful, and the next, he is one of them.

They spend their first heat together in the Citadel, months down the road. It’s like it was always meant to the four of them, Gladio knotting Prompto until he was delirious, Ignis taking him apart with lips and tongue, and Noctis being there to soothe and comfort.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Noctis dad tells him, during a brief moment where he’s extracted himself from his quarters smelling of heat and rut and hormones to sneak into the kitchens.

“I kinda don’t, but at least it’ll give you grandkids some day!” Noctis replies, tugging his blanket further around his naked form.

His dad offers him a tired little smile, and Noctis briefly wonders what it was like for him in his own pack, with his mom and all the other old men he’s mostly seen in pictures. He’s stricken with the urge to kiss him affectionately on the cheek, but he figures he smells far too strongly for that to be appropriate. He settles for a “good night," and slinks on towards his destination.

Later that week, his dad sends them away from the Capital, and he replays that conversation in his head nearly every night they spend camping, pressed together under the light of stars.

 

* * *

 

_5_

 

“Do you want children?”

It’s Gladio who asks this question. It isn't really aimed at anyone in particular, but it is important.

They are all of them camped out in the uncomfortably tight barracks of Zegnautus Keep for a brief rest. None of them are getting sleep any time soon, but Noctis knows better than anyone that it helps to at least close your eyes and be still when you’re feeling as stressed as he is.

Ignis and Prompto, who have become closer over this awful journey, are wrapped around each other, Prompto’s front pressed into Ignis’ back. Once he processes Gladio’s words, his head pops up over Ignis shoulder.

“What do you mean?” He asks, absentmindedly running a hand up and down Ignis' arm.

“I mean what I said. Do you want kids? Because I’m feeling like we should try.” Gladio replies.

There’s a deeply-rooted pain settled in his eyes, and his hands are clasped tightly together. Noctis shuffles close to him on their shared bunk, presses a kiss into his bare shoulder. He gruffly kisses the crown of Noctis head, and some of the pain in Noctis’ temple eases. Is he no longer angry?

“I would.” Ignis responds, surprising them all, “but now is hardly the time.”

“I know, Iggy. I know. I was just--wondering. Once all of this blows over. You know?”

And Noctis doesn’t know what to say to that, especially once Prompto softly voices his agreement.

How does he tell them that he feels like none of this will blow over? How does he tell them that his dodgy knee has gotten worse, that it’s harder to focus when he should be strong and clear? How can he look Gladio in the eye and tell him that he doubts he’ll live until tomorrow?

Later, he learns Ardyn’s true name, and the crystal sucks him in. It takes ten long years for him to even think about Gladio’s question again, and when he does, they’re stepping back into Insomnia with weapons in hand.

 

* * *

 

_+1_

“Thank you, love,” Ignis says, as Prompto reaches out and guides him around a pile of clothes strewn lazily on the floor. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d be totally sad, and none of you would get along, and the King of Lucis would be a very bad ruler.”

“Gee,” Noctis deadpans, “thanks for the vote of confidence.”

He and Gladio are sprawled out on their shared bed, surrounded by the pillows he’s obsessively arranged into a half-fort. He’s not the pregnant one, but it amuses Prompto and soothes his own nerves, so he nests as needed.

Gladio leans over and presses a butterfly kiss onto Noctis’ forehead, as if to say, “ _It’s okay, I believe in you_ ,” and Noctis kisses his chin as he leans away to focus back on the book he’s reading.

“Prompto and I were discussing names for the next royal child.” Ignis explains.

The both of them settle onto the bed, and Prompto crawls over to Noctis for a customary nuzzle before he subsides tiredly into the bed. Noctis’ hand is on the growing curve of his belly in an instant, feeling for the strong kicks that have been sending his packmate running for the bathrooms.

“I was thinking ‘urinary tract infection’. Doesn’t it have a ring?” Prompto jokes, eyes fluttering closed.

Ever since the advent of the Starscourge, his eyes have always looked tired. Though generally happier these days, it’s strangely unsettling to see something like bone-deep exhaustion of old seeping back onto his face in any shape or form.

“Now you know how I feel,” Noctis jokes, rubbing soothing circles on Prompto’s belly,  “I was convinced Estelle was out for my bladder.”

The toddler in question is asleep in her little cot not three feet away from their bed. She is the spitting image of Gladio, all honey brown eyes and dark wavy hair. He wonders what this child will look like, if they will look like him or Prompto or Ignis this time. They’d tried their best to ensure that Noctis sired this next child, but at the end of the day, a Beta’s chances will always be stronger than another Omega’s, and in turn an Alpha’s will always be superior. He doesn’t mind, regardless. Any children born of this pack will be loved, and with the world still recovering from devastation, there is little to worry about upholding dated tradition.

“Aren’t you so glad I let you kiss me on the couch that one time?” Prompto asks, suddenly. “Now we’re chilling post-apocalyptic style, and you managed to get me knocked up.”

Ignis lets out an amused chuckle. “Is that how this started?”

“Hot,” Gladio comments, playfully shoving away Noctis’ lazy fist. The momentum of their little tussle sends him face-first into Ignis' chest, who squeezes his arm and kisses his temple. Like a big cat, Gladio settles down into the sheets.

“I’m very glad, Prompto. Thank you for the kisses. Stay forever. I love you. I love you all.”

Noctis says this with a joking tone of voice, but he means it--he means it more than anything in all of Eos. His packmates take turns smothering him with affection in response.

Soon, Estelle will stir. Prompto will shuffle off the bed to relieve himself once again. Gladio will look around for food, and Ignis will wrangle the lot of them out of bed.

This, Noctis thinks, is all thanks to a fumbling kiss on a couch. It’s worth another ten years and more.

**Author's Note:**

> (it's like four am and i stayed up to finish and edit this, my eyes are droopin, so please let me know if there are still any awful miss steaks)
> 
> hey how you feelin did you read this far did you like it did you hate it talk to me... please and thangk... i am but a soft and chatty child
> 
> i just made a [tumblr](https://sweetiepiemarnie.tumblr.com/) so if you wanna come yell at me over there i'm open! sorry in advance for the weird theme, a friend helped me and idk what to do cuz i haven't been on tumblr in Years


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